Temptress
by poiuytrewq1234567890
Summary: "The noble temptress eats the hearts of her prey. The eager temptress plays the hearts of her prey. The silent temptress stabs the hearts of her prey." Post Harmon Murder House. It's better than it sounds, trust me.


**Tate**

Tate waited patiently outside of her room. He's been waiting for a long time. He's been waiting ever since her arrival at this goddamn house. Ever since she took her first steps into the grand entrance, he's been waiting. Waiting for the first words that he would say to her, the first laugh they would share together, the first kiss that made his dead lips tingle with life.

His mind shook a little. The first kiss. That made him want to laugh. Oh how far they have come since the first kiss.

Then his mind began to think of their last kiss. Their last laugh. The last words he would ever speak to her.

It angered him. How easy it was for him to be broken by a girl. Just a simple foolish girl. But Violet wasn't a simple girl. That's what drew him to her. What made him stay. What made it impossible for him to leave.

So here he was. Sitting on the dirt filth ground outside her room. The days he's spent here was insane. Sometimes he might even challenge his boundaries and actually sit on the other side of the door. Inside the room. The same room as her.

He would watch as she puffed out her anger through blows of smoke. Rings following rings that pump out of the cigarette. Some nights he would stand silently by the end of her bed. Watching her toss and turn in her sleep at the memories of the monster that ruined her.

It was such a short distance. It became so easy for him to just reach out. To make actual contact with her. He's even followed through at times. He would reach his hand out, fingers lingering in the air. He would always pull them back in fright before he could feel the milky-smoothness of her skin. Perhaps he wasn't ready for the same things she wasn't ready for.

Most of the days, he sat exactly where he was sitting right now. Outside of her room. Back against the door.

It was never boring for Tate. He enjoyed the sense that he was protecting her. Protecting her from a greater evil that deep down he knew was himself. A wall between them allowed him to keep the demon away from his angel.

Today was different for Tate. As he sat outside of her room, he noticed something that was a first. A new first for the both of them. Possibly the last first they'll ever experience together.

Todays was the first day she didn't cry. He didn't hear the faint sounds of tears that drowned his beautiful angel. The tears that he choked on every day. His red eyes itched at the reminder of his last cry.

Was she still in the room? He wandered to himself. Perhaps she has left. Probably off with her dad discussing the psychotic demon that ruined their whole family.

A grin slowly spread itself over Tate's tear struck face, "I guess I really did take her breath away."

The grin quickly disappeared at the thought of Violet's death.

"It wasn't my fault. It wasn't my fault," He would mutter to himself at night as he rocked himself to sleep. It was his sole consolation that made him feel less guilty of Violet's stiffened corpse that always seemed to haunt his brain with the herd of flies following it everywhere.

_Tap Tap Tap Tap_

His fingers slammed against the floors testing whether or not Violet was still waiting. Surely she knew that he would wait...she knew...she must have.

_Tap Tap Tap Tap_

A rhythm repeated after his. Tate's head swung back in surprise. The door was still there. It seemed as if no movement happened behind it. But it must have.

It must have been his angel. Did she finally reply? Was she finally forgiving him? His heart fluttered at the unstable sign of hope.

But it wasn't her. Appearing from thin air, as if some sick form of magic, was Hayden. "Calm down my little doll," She held her fingers up to his chin. He shifted away uncomfortably, "It's just me."

Of course, he should have known. Violet wouldn't have forgiven him. Why would she? She hates him. She despises him with absolute anger and fury. How naive of him to believe that she would love him again.

"What do you want?" Tate rose up immediately.

"Why so distant? Why so harsh?" Hayden's voice rang with such a dark note, "You weren't that way last night." She started to laugh.

Tate's head shook. Last night was a mistake. A filthy mistake with a filthy whore. "All I remember was the harshness of your knife." Tate smirked back. It was one of those unwilling smirks that would escape time to time because...well Tate's Tate.

"Oh relax. It healed didn't it?" Hayden snapped back. She didn't like being embarrassed of her vulnerability.

Tate's hands rubbed over the many stab wounds he recovered from immediately. His involuntary smirk returned as he continued on with the conversation, "Did Travis' heal? Oh. wait. He's dead." He lifted a finger towards his target, "Because of you."

"Oh how much we are alike." Hayden's head rolled back in laughter. The set of pearly white teeth exposed themselves into the sunlight.

"We're nothing alike." He hurled back impatiently. Tate's always been impatient. The only person he could wait for; however, was Violet.

"Oh but Did Violet heal? Wait...she's dead." Hayden lifted her finger around in the air, "Because of you."

"Go Away." He snapped quickly. Poof. She's gone.

Tate's attention turned back to the door. The door that separated him from the girl that couldn't heal. The wounds of which he created. His beautiful masterpiece. Every piece one of a kind. Those arms with the red scars that only bled for him. Those glossy hazel eyes that cried for no other. He took a deep breath. That heart, that pounded so soundly until her death.

He began to wonder. Did Violet hear him and Hayden? Their little argument that hardly lasted a second?

Of course she didn't. She wanted nothing to do with him.

"Miss!" Moira's voice interrupted Tate's thoughts. He quickly disappeared. No need to cause a commotion with the woman who despises his family. Or worse, no need for another awkward stare off that would only end in one leaving, head down with shame.

"Miss!" Her voice echoed as it neared the hall.

A figure glided itself inside. Tate prepared himself for Moira to roll in, but it wasn't Moira who emerged from the corners. Instead it was a girl. A beautiful glowing girl. One that couldn't be compared to Violet of course. Nothing compared to Violet.

"Oh Moira!" Her voice sang out with such lightness it almost drifted off, "I know of the House better than any other." She let out a smile. Her lips cracked revealing a set of teeth that put Hayden's to shame. "I think I shall be fine."

Moira hurried into the room behind her. "But you don't know of the new residents! Miss Roland! You must listen-"

"Moira!" The voice sang back quickly. She put her hand up to Moira's face, "No resident can keep me away. You out of all people should understand."

Moira leaned from side to side. Reluctantly she finally let out a grin. "I understand Miss Roland."

A smile lit up the girl's face. The smile shined so bright it even stunned Tate who sat in the corner moping in his own despair. "Goodness Moira! I'm so glad to be back!" Her hands glided down to Moira's hands, "My! Won't you see how much this house has changed! Everything around us...Wow! It really is beautiful!"

Tate took a step in closer examining the girl. What kind of person talked like that? Whoever she was, she was intriguing.

"Miss Roland. A lot has changed since your last visit. I think you might find some things...unbearable." Moira's tone dropped again. This caused the girl's smile to drop.

"Oh Moira. I believe I have seen a few more things than anything this silly little house will put me through."

"Yes Miss Roland. I know of all the mourning you've been put through for the past years. I understand your decision." Moira paused before looking back up, "But Miss Roland. If you want my advice. I would be careful if I were you."

"Oh Moira. I'll be fine! And please! Just call me Roland. I insist." Ahh so Roland is her real name, Tate shook his head slightly. Odd name. Odd girl.

"Well _Roland_ if you need anything, you know where I'll be." And with that Moira took her steps out of the hallway. Tate stood with his hands in his pockets still in the corner.

He hasn't shown himself to "Roland" yet. He didn't feel in the mood to meet another girl. The only girl he ever needed was Violet.

But it was as if he didn't have a choice. Roland kind of just glanced over. The simple little glance turned into a glare that pierced through Tate's eyes. Did she see him? No. That's impossible. She couldn't have.

"If you take pride spying on other people's conversation...At least have the decency to show yourself." Roland spoke. Her voice seemed no longer light and heavenly as the words that came out became dark and heavy.

The comment shocked Tate but didn't shock him enough into revealing himself. The girl waited patiently, her blue green eyes still on Tate's invisible ghost face. Tate couldn't help but to admire the girl's patience. He started comparing her to Violet. His Violet. His Violet that laid right behind the big door he was leaning against. And the more he thought of Violet's face the sadder he became. Drops of tears hit the floor unwillingly. Tate's body functioned unwillingly a lot. It shocked him how his body had a mind of its own.

He swung his head back to the girl who stood there. She was still looking at him. Her eyes were locked onto his. Surely this was just a coincidence. No way she could actually see me.

"Why are you crying?" Her voice rung out. Tate stepped back annoyed. How could this girl see me? More importantly, How dare she talk to Tate Langdon with such rudeness? The thought of it angered Tate. It angered him into showing himself.

The girl gave a smile. It was as if she got what she wanted all along. "So..." Her voice trailed on as she took steps closer to Tate, "Why are you crying?"

Tate stood still in his own little spot. He stood tall guarding the door that led to his jewel. "Who the hell are you?" His voice came out deeper than he expected. He didn't really care though. It sounded menacing enough.

"I could ask the same to you." The girl hit back with her voice ringing still so angelic.

"So you're new? Moving in?" Tate crossed his arms. He's seen many new families try moving into the Murder House. The Harmons were able to scare every single one of them away. "You're not going to last long." He smirked at the end. This wasn't an unwilling smirk. No, Tate thought, this was the kind of smirk that you leave for someone who will either die or never return back.

"Oh trust me. I'm not new to this house. And lasting long here is not an issue," The girl gave a smirk as well. But hers was beautiful. So beautiful that Tate almost forgot what the girl was saying. What did she mean not new? He's never seen her before. Was it possible that she was also a ghost? No. Like he said. He's never seen her before.

"Then who the hell are you?"

"Why were you crying?" The girl changed the topic. It was as if she became bored of a conversation that wasn't going anywhere.

"I wasn't crying."

"Who was she?" Roland fired back.

"Who was who?"

"The girl who broke your heart."

Tate gave a confused look as if he couldn't comprehend the words being thrown at him.

"Or guy. If you're into that." Roland laughed.

"_She _has nothing to do with you." Tate growled. This girl. This new girl. What gave her the right to question him so openly. Didn't she know who she was talking to? Doesn't she know the things he's done. He could have killed her right there. He could have beaten her to death. He could have shoved her body into the wall. That pale painted wall that stood grandly behind her, dying to be coated with a red that only blood can splatter. And oh, how his hands were aching to ring her neck like a wet towel. His fingers stretched around at the thought of it. It would be quick. It would be simple.

This was the kind of monster Tate was, he thought angrily to himself. This was the monster that ruined Violet. That put the end to the Harmons. This monster that this foolishly stupid girl was throwing questions at...this monster could have killed her in a heartbeat.

"_She _does if she's in this house." Roland interrupted Tate's thoughts. Tate's brutal thoughts of killing. Of death.

The statement made Tate squanter on his feet awkwardly. This mystery girl was getting more into Tate's head than he first expected. "Why are you here?"

Roland rolled her eyes at Tate. "If you play these silly little games with me, you should know that I already know all the cheats." She took another breath, "Is the heartbroken girl waiting in the room behind you?"

"Stop asking about her."

Tate's anger about the subject seemed to excite Roland. "What does she look like? Wow I haven't seen the new residents at all. It seems as if everyones new!"

"What do you mean new residents?"

"Is she sad? Is she always so sad? Like you?" Roland added along not listening to a thing Tate's saying. It seemed as if she already had all the answers. Everything that happened in this forsaken house and she read it like it was a history book.

Tate's lack of response bored Roland as she prepared to leave. Before she did so, she turned to Tate, "Heartbreaks are only temporarily. Only time will heal, not wringing my neck like a lifeless chicken." As she spoke she smiled with such delight the words she spoke suddenly became less scary than the words in her mind.

* * *

**Moira**

Her steps hastened as she reached the basement. "Nora! Nora!" Her voice shivered as she yelped. Moira was never one for delivering bad news. She liked avoiding these situations at all costs but when it came to Roland...well Roland has always been an exception.

A flimsy afraid woman cowered from the shadows. Part of Moira rolled her eyes at Nora. A grown woman, crawling around like a helpless little baby. No better than the infanata.

"Oh Moira, I wasn't expecting you at such...an hour" The shadow's voice quivered as the last part of her sentence drifted away.

Part of Moira has always blamed Nora for Tate's actions. All those innocent families killed for a child that they couldn't bare. Oh and the Harmons. The Harmons were especially hard for Moira to talk about. Vivien has grown close to Moira's heart and it ached at every memory, that her friend was raped for a child Nora didn't want.

And the birth of a dead child that Nora stole for her own. One that she couldn't raise at all. What a foolish woman. A foolish despicable woman.

"Nora. It seems we have a situation on our hands." Moira didn't add the "Miss" on purpose. Her "signature Miss" that made everything she said so respectful and dignified. No. Nora didn't deserve it.

"What is it?" Nora asked back. Her voice was stronger but still so weak.

"I'm afraid, Nora, that _she_ has come back."

Nora's eyes widened at the mentioning of _her_ but she quickly readjusted into her selfish minded brain set. "Well _she_ doesn't involve me."

"But _she_ involves Tate." Nora's attention came back at the mentioning of Tate. Oh such a silly boy. Her little silly boy. Silly for killing so many of the residents, oh how silly he could be. "I'm afraid that Tate will harm her." Moira added.

Nora instinctively defended Tate's side as if he was her own child. "How do we not know that _she_ won't hurt him? You know of the things she done!"

"Nora!" Moira's voice was firm. "The things she's done and the things she's gone through are not even comparable. Want my advice? Make sure Tate stays away from her. Further the better. We don't need a repeat of history now do we?"

Moira watched as Nora revisited the horrors of the past. She shakily agreed along. "I'll try my best with the boy, but with Tate. You never know."

"Yes." Moira nodded along, "Our past has enough evidence to prove _that_."

* * *

**Charles**

_No more puffs. This time for real. You must control yourself. _

Charles sat at his desk. Jars of body parts swimming in liquid surrounded him. Charles smiled. Oh jars that once has been used to store flowers showing off their light and beauty are now storing the devils most favorable delicacy.

His eyes squandered to the towel that sat infront of them.

_Just one driff. No one has to know. _

His hands reached out.

_No. You're better than this. You can control yourself._

His hands snapped back quickly.

_But it's just one driff. What harm can that do? _

Charles closed his eyes at the scent that drifted to his nose. God he missed that scent. It lured him to the towel. It's all he needs.

It's not like Nora even cares about him anymore. She could care less that he's been changing. He's quit for so long but it hasn't been enough. It's never enough. In her eyes, he's always going to be the man that destroyed her family. That destroyed her baby.

Just one puff. Like it'll actually make a difference. Of course it won't.

Of course it will. But it didn't matter for Charles' brain ached for it. His mind craved it. His heart desired it. It wasn't just love, it was lust. He needed it.

_Stomp Stomp Stomp _

Charles snapped out of it at the sound of footsteps. Possibly Nora's? Has she forgiven him finally? Was she coming down to forgive him?

Maybe they could relive the good ol' days. The days spent on the bed, laughing, smiling...her skin. It's been centuries since he's last touched her skin yet he still remembers every part of it. The pale delicate skin that tenderly wrapped around his shoulders as she laughed so happily.

But that was when she loved him. Hah. "Love."

His attention returned to the sound of footsteps. Oh how much he missed Nora's footsteps. He quaked nervously in his seat. Maybe he was nervous to see the sight of his gorgeous wife.

But it wasn't her.

"Hello Charles." Licked the lips of the devil. Charles' eyes widened at the sight. Oh the wonderous sight that only a few could ever experience in a lifetime (or afterlife). It shocked him the way Satan could take form in such an innocent face.

Blonde locks of hair that were sure to replicate that of the sun, shining bright at the corpses down at blue eyes like the sea which drowned the bodies of innocent and washed them onto shore, motionless. Pink lips that hid the teeth of a monster waiting to attack.

It shocked him the way that the devil stood so vicious and motionless infront of him. The way she was waiting, as if taunting him.

His hands cramped. His cracked yellow finger nails ached wanting to scratch at her face. The memories of her rushed back towards him as he silently laughed. Oh there was something about this girl. And boy did "The eye of the beholder" make sense to him now. Just the very sight of her made him crave the touch of death. It lured him in stronger than any flimsy little towel could.

Yet as much as he wanted to kill her, he wanted to caress her. There was something about falling in love with a girl so young, so longing.

_The noble temptress eats the hearts of her prey. The eager temptress plays the hearts of her prey. The silent temptress stabs the hearts of her prey. _

The silent temptress she was. No, She couldn't be categorized as just one. She was all three. And that scared him. It scared him so much he shuttered.

And she cracked another smile that lit up her whole face.

"Oh Charles. How much you've changed!"

Charles brushed her comment away. Instead he muttered out loud the name of the Lucifer that stood proudly infront of him. And immediately after the words left his mouth, the taste of iron and blood entered. His whole mouth then filled with the taste of iron. Cuts started forming from midair among his body. His skin started to sizzle with heat. His skin started to droop. It was as if he was melting.

None of it mattered for he knew that he couldn't possibly die. All he could focus on was the demon that caused this on him. One that was out for revenge. Thirsty for the taste of blood and tears. The devil that smiled as he was dying right infront of her. The evil that no other being could possess. Not even the anti-christ that lived next door. No. She is worse. She is the worst.

_"Rolland." _


End file.
